


'Gypsy' - A Riverdale AU

by SleuthingDistraction



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleuthingDistraction/pseuds/SleuthingDistraction
Summary: This is the first chapter of a little Riverdale AU. I put on my Spotify, clicked on Daily Mix 1, hopped in the shower and  a song came up with the title 'Gypsy' and I was immediately inspired to write this. If any of you would be interested in seeing where this goes please let me know. I've really enjoyed writing this so far.
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, More relationships will come to light
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Coffee and Pastry

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of a little Riverdale AU. I put on my Spotify, clicked on Daily Mix 1, hopped in the shower and a song came up with the title 'Gypsy' and I was immediately inspired to write this. If any of you would be interested in seeing where this goes please let me know. I've really enjoyed writing this so far.

It was cold. It was always cold this time of year. When the chill in the air whisks away the leaves on the floor, replacing them with white flakes from crowded clouds. When the breath leaves your mouth and you see it in front of you, like a chain smoker would see their cigarette smoke.

He sat there; outside of the tall building, the busy street bustling with passers-by; children running to school, students scrambling to make their 9am seminar and workers with coffee in their hands and briefcases bulging with overdue paperwork. He didn't know the type of goings-on that happened inside that building, all he knew was that he never got moved. And it was safe. It quickly became his spot. After moving from outside of rowdy bars and dirty underground steps, he set up his worn out sleeping bag, his trusty backpack, imprinted with his surname that held what could have been a legacy and the clothes on his back.

It had been 18 months. Hot summers, crisp falls, cool springs and bone chilling winters.  
18 months had passed since he rode away on his matte black motorcycle, with his whole life on his back, never turning once to look at the people and the life he was leaving behind.  
The first month wasn't so bad. He had money in his pocket, a bed, albeit dingey, but a bed in a motel none the less to sleep on and enough packets of ramen to get him through. 

It wasn't until the money ran dry, the motel stopped putting him up and accepting "I'll have the money to you by Friday." That he ended up on the street. His pride and joy, his tried and true motorcycle was the last thing he clung to. He didn't want to sell it, but four days straight of no sleep so he could keep watch on it, incase some low life came along and took the opportunity to steal it, four days of no food and the only water he managed to drink was from a fountain that stood outside of a derelict church. He had two options: go back to Riverdale with your tail between your legs or sell the bike. Hell would of had to freeze over before he stepped foot anywhere near that place again. So the bike had to go. He got enough money from it to settle his debt with the motel and manage a couple more weeks staying there, before he packed up his life again and found himself on the street once more.

It wasn't too bad, he packed clever when he left. He knew that his reputation would follow him and he would inevitably end up on the street.  
You see when you walk into a place with a worn out leather jacket, housing a the badge of the 'Southside Serpents' people were reluctant to give you a job. Bars didn't want any trouble, offices had strict uniform rules and kitchens didn't like it when all you could cook was packaged noodles.

It was a Monday. At least that's what it felt like. The street was chaotic, people were rushing and traffic was backed up further than his beautiful, tired blue eyes could see. 

It must have been around 9am. One guy, in what looked like an extremely expensive suit, shiny dress shoes and a long black mac, threw some money down as he passed, not paying much notice and too absorbed in the phone call he was on. "Yeah Tom, I'm on my way. Downtown is crazy. Tell that little prick to wait in my office I'll be there in 5!" The well dressed man said as the money crumpled from his hand to Jughead's. "Keep the change bud." He added with a smurk as he walked away, disappearing into the crowds. Jughead looked down at the 5 dollar bill that he was straightening out and hiding away in his pocket. "Yeah, thanks man!" Jughead shouted after him, standing up preparing his makeshift bed to be folded into his bag, so he could go to the cafe across the street and get a hot coffee and a pastry. Knowing that this was more than likely the only thing that would cross his lips today.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" A small and timid voice followed the jolt that made Jughead fall backwards and into the mirrored glass of the tall building, the sorry he didn't hear among the noise of downtown. "Watch yourself ma..." just before he could finish he looked up, not finishing his sentence, the anger he felt inside from being pushed back and his fists balled ready to defend himself from whatever inconsiderate asshole had not been watching were they were going, taking no notice to the actual person that had bumped into, when he noticed her. The person, bending down to his level, holding out a hand to help him back to his feet. The person in front of him was a woman. No older than him, maybe even younger. Her soft, delicate complexion and her piercing green eyes stunned him. "It's fine." He added standing and brushing his hands down his legs. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking were I was going, I'm late for work, I was rushi..." she added standing up to meet his gaze, before he interrupted, "honestly, it's err, it's fine. No worries." He added as he stretched his arms through the straps of his backpack. "Can I get you a coffee or something? That place over there does coffee and a pastry for 5 bucks." He couldn't help but smile. Smile at the fact that he already knew, smiling at her because there was no other expression he could convey when those eyes were on him. Smiling because this was the first time in months he felt something in his stomach that wasn't hunger for food, but hunger for something, someone much more satisfying.


	2. Meet Cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so here is chapter 2. I've not been able to get this story out of my brain since this morning. I hope you all enjoy this Betty POV.

"Oh, errm... Mr Hicks said that if you were to come in any later than 9:01.... I'm not allowed to let you into his office." The short, brunette said as Betty walked in from the cold, busy New York Street and into the quiet, warm offices. Her thoughts still outside, her mind was still focused on the beautiful man, she was almost certain she had fallen in love with.  
"What?...It's crazy out there, plus it's only 9:05... I'm just gonna go in and explain." Betty replied making her way to the back of the long corridor and towards the frosted glass doors. "No!" The woman shouted as she stood in front of Betty, stopping her from taking one more step. "Laurel!" Betty responded, her tone not as soft now "I'm just gonna go in. If he says anything when we're done, just say... I .... I dunno, say I came in when you was on a call or something." Betty added as she made her way safely past the much shorter woman standing between her and the meeting she had been anticipating for weeks.

"Mr Hicks..." Betty added as she knocked on the glass door and entered the large office.  
"Mr Hicks, I'm so sorry I'm late. I think there has been an accident on 8th and all the traffic is..."  
"You're 5 minutes late Elizabeth. I told you last week after the 100th application you sent in, that this would be your first and only chance..." Mr Hicks said, cutting her off in her explanation. "And here you are, late. Of all the times you choose to be late. It mustn't mean so much to you after all." Hicks added.  
"Sir, with all due respect... I didn't choose today to be late." Betty's voice was serious. "As I was saying, I think there has been an accident. It was out of my hands." Betty added taking the strap of her brown leather satchell from off her shoulder and reaching for the buckle. "2 minutes Elizabeth. I have a suit fitting at 9:30... and I'm never late for my appointments." Hicks said with a condescending tone as he sat back in the large leather reclining chair that was housed behind the long, mahogany desk.  
"Thank you." Betty started. "The reason for requesting this meeting with you was to discuss the availability of more freedom with my writing. I love my job here and the team I work within. I would just like the opportunity to show you a wider range of my writing skills." Betty reached into the bag and pulled out a perfectly organised binder, individually stacked within plastic wallets was every bit of writing she had ever produced. "This is all my work from high school, college and there are some personal pieces I've written amongst them too." She added as she handed him the folder.  
"I'm not interested in looking at your love letters to your high school sweetheart, Elizabeth." Hicks said with a creepy grin on his, greasy face.  
"You underestimate me, Mr Hicks." Betty responded, her tone oozing with confidence and self worth.  
"We'll see... I'll have an answer by the end of the day..." And with that he stood up from his desk. "Don't you have some work to be doing?" He asked, rasing one eyebrow, with that grin still on his face and his hand gesturing to the door.

Betty managed to get through her day; she had sorted through the emails that had took up space in her work email, she finished her piece on 'The Teenage Mind: Why do teens self insert into celebrity lives?' And she got the go ahead from Mr Hicks to start writing for the investigations column. She was proud of herself for going and getting what she wanted, not quiting when things got a bit tough and perusing something she was extremely passionate about.

As she made her way up to her 1 bedroom apartment, a 30 minute train ride and 10 minute walk from work, Betty's mind couldn't help but drift back to her brief encounter earlier that morning. She wasn't one to believe in fate all that much. The majority of her life she had worked for whatever she had, she had knuckled down in school and graduated college; majoring in both journalism and criminal psych. But this was different, she had encounters with many strangers since moving to New York; to conversations on the underground, glances across busy coffee shops to turning down drunk guys who could barely string a sentence together. 

But this was different. It was different for so many unexplainable yet simple reasons. The man she couldn't get out of her head was a stranger and yes, he was a stranger that lived on the street but he wasn't a stranger to her at all. His eyes seemed so familiar, the genuine smile that lit up his beautiful face felt like home and the way he looked at her made her feel as though they were the only two people on the planet.  
She tried many times on that journey home to rid her mind of him, thinking about her next big piece she would submit to Mr Hicks, if she would have pasta for dinner or grab a noodle box from the Chinese restaurant across from her apartment... but all roads lead back to him. She thought about what he did before he ended up living on the streets, what happened to him for him to eventually end up there, if he managed to eat today, if the snow would stop and he wouldn't be too cold through the night. The thoughts whirld through her lovely blonde haired head. She wanted to know him, she wanted to know his name and his story. She needed to.

Betty finally got to her apartment, by-passing the Chinese restaurant and failing to put the pasta on the stove, before collapsing on her cozy grey couch. Drifting off into her slumber, only managing to kick off her shoes, falling asleep fully clothed, vividly dreaming of the dark haired stranger who had taken permanent residence in her thoughts since 9:01 this morning.


End file.
